


The Reason Is You: A Moongene AU

by keeparecordofthewreckage



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Comfort Sex, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Feels, Moondrop | Moonstone Opal (Disney), Reunion Sex, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:07:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28814643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeparecordofthewreckage/pseuds/keeparecordofthewreckage
Summary: Weeks have passed since Eugene took the moonstone in the Dark Kingdom in the hopes of protecting Rapunzel. The only problem? He can't stay away from her: not with the guilt and desire which nag unforgivingly at him with every moment that he spends away from her. This standalone one-shot is Rated M, containing sexual intimacy laced with deep angst/hurt.
Relationships: Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	The Reason Is You: A Moongene AU

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I'm going to share a little secret with you, my fellow Tangled fans: the whole Moongene idea is an intriguing concept which sometimes overruns my twisted mind's eye. While I'm very glad that Moongene wasn't canon, I sometimes find myself selfishly indulging in what would have happened, had Eugene been the one to take the moonstone, and not Cassandra. Re-watching the way that Cassandra crashed Eugene's birthday party in Season 3, I got an itch to write this one-shot about what would happen if Moongene showed up to the castle unexpectedly after disappearing for a while, and what would happen with Zhan Tiri playing with his head.
> 
> This one-shot depends upon several key things: that Eugene was the one to take the moonstone in the Season 2 finale, and that he and Rapunzel were sexually intimate long before the events of the finale. Things are about to be very painful and angsty around here (let's be honest: could my readers expect anything less of me?), so proceed at your own risk. Honestly, I wrote this standalone piece purely because I'm a sorry old sucker for angsty New Dream. This one-shot is Rated M, heavy on the M – because not only am I a sucker for New Dream angst, but I'm a sucker for New Dream intimacy in the midst of heartbreaking circumstances. I can't lie: it actually hurt to write this, but it was fun to finally indulge in the world of this interesting AU for a little while.
> 
> As always, my writing process was greatly influenced by music. We have three featured songs today: The Reason by Hoobastank, Angels Like You by Miley Cyrus, and Exile by Taylor Swift (feat. Bon Iver), as all three songs heavily inspired this work. The lyrics themselves in connection to this AU, causes the whole thing to feel just plain heart shattering, and I suppose it is. Lastly, I must give due credit to dreaming_seams on Twitter for the beautiful cover image used for this story.
> 
> Lastly, if you're interested, I have an ongoing, full-length New Dream story over on Fanfiction.net! It's called 'Killing Me Slowly: A Tangled Fanfiction,' in which New Dream navigates Rapunzel's arranged marriage. It's very angsty, and I typically update once a week, so check it out if you're interested! Okay, enough of my rambling. Let me know what you guys think of this. And without further ado… the angst.

**The Reason Is You: A Moongene AU**

_I'm sorry that I hurt you_

_It's something I must live with everyday_

_And all the pain I put you through_

_I wish that I could take it all away_

_And be the one who catches all your tears…_

* * *

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be doing this — he should be staying _away_ from her – far, far away.

Why the hell is he doing this? He can't be here, he can't see her. Because if he does, if his gaze falls upon her sweet face for even just one _moment_ , he's going to want to stay – and staying will only put her in harm's way. The only reason why he's _done_ all of this, the reason why he's put her through this plague of betrayal and hurt, was to _avoid_ that – to avoid her being shoved into harm's way, to avoid history repeating itself. His being here now, only forces everything that he's done to protect her, to stand for absolutely nothing!

' _You can't stay! Staying will break her spirit, will only put the moonstone in danger of being destroyed! If she sees you like this, she'll want to protect you from it. She'll want to destroy it even more!'_

"Go away." Eugene whispers, desperate to get the little, female voice which has guided him all this time, out of his head. "I don't want you here. Not tonight."

_Not with her around. I don't want her to see me like this – to see me absolutely losing my mind, talking to people who aren't really there._

' _You're going to regret this!'_

_I know I will, but she's worth it…_

So he doesn't leave, even though he knows deep in his bones that he should.

Because Eugene Fitzherbert is a selfish son-of-a-bitch, he always has been – especially when it comes to _her_. And staying away from her, is a grand act of selflessness which he apparently is not strong enough to fulfill today.

He'd done all of this to protect her; because protecting her, Eugene had realized that fateful day when he'd learned the truth of his familial lineage, is even more important than _being with_ her. He'd done this, because the thought of his mother's fate bestowing the love of his life, had been far too much for him to bear. He would rather spend the rest of his life watching over her from afar, than spend the rest of his life knowing that she'd died because he hadn't been man enough to save her.

So he's given up those green eyes, and those perpetually bare feet, and that soft, sweet voice which could ask him to do anything, and he would – he's given up his _dream_ – all in the hopes of keeping his dream safe. All in the hopes of keeping her _alive_. It wouldn't matter what happens to him, as long as she still has a life to live. Too many people need her, and too little people need him. His sacrifice made complete sense: it had been the right thing to do, for the greater good of their kingdom.

But some days — like today — Eugene is not entirely sure that he made the right choice.

Some days – like today – he misses her so badly that his bones actually begin to ache, his hands grown restless and shaky without her in them, his mind plagued by a deep-seated melancholy which can only be comforted by her.

So, selfish as he is, he'd snuck onto the castle grounds, scaled the side of the castle with the stealth and sureness of a man who had been a thief for the majority of his life – indulging in the life of selfishness which he'd guiltlessly lived before he'd found her, and the life of selfishness which he will try very hard _not_ to live after her (though, Eugene must admit, it's a little fun to evade guards and sneak around again, because he'd forgotten for a while how good he is at it). And _because_ he is so selfish, here he is, watching her silently from the balcony, dying to push her French doors open and fall to his knees before her, begging for her forgiveness.

He can't do that, though, he _knows_ that he can't be so cruel to her. He's selfish, but he can't be _that_ selfish. He can't beg for her forgiveness, because he can't stay.

But with her sitting there on the edge of her bed, in nothing but her corset and underwear, appearing to be clutching what is the vest that he'd been wearing when they'd first met, selflessness is a virtue which Eugene Fitzherbert is simply not strong enough for tonight.

He's a selfish son-of-a-bitch, a fool who lit a match and set his life on fire. And maybe, he's about to set hers on fire, as well. Maybe, he's about to light up any chance at normalcy which she's probably fought like hell to find, collecting the pieces of her surely shattered heart since that fateful day when he fucked everything up.

But what else can a man so pathetically in love possibly do?

* * *

It's been weeks: _weeks_ since she's heard his voice last, weeks since she's felt his hands upon her skin – weeks since his unforeseen, _unbearable_ betrayal.

She understood why he did it, understood what he _thought_ he was doing. But what Rapunzel simply _cannot_ comprehend, is the thought of going on without him for the rest of her life.

Always upbeat and positive, even in the harshest of circumstances, Rapunzel simply cannot bring herself to find the good in this, not even a _single_ beam of sunlight shining upon this situation which they've found themselves in. Without Eugene, she just wants to die. And if her duty and commitment to her kingdom wasn't so strong, she probably would. She would just die, her heart so broken, that it never has a _chance_ at being whole again.

Not without him.

Wracked with the suffocating reality of trying to go on without him, trying to return to some sense of _normalcy_ (with little success), she'd snuck into his bedroom a few nights ago, had lingered there for a while, had finally found the courage to go through his stuff – stuff which Cassandra has been nagging at the heartbroken princess to just _get rid of_ since they returned to Corona. But she can't do it, can't bring herself to erase his presence from the castle. She can't erase his lingering presence, _just_ in case he realizes that their being apart, is hurting her more than anything else ever could – just in case he decides to come back home and ask her for forgiveness, so that everything can be like it was.

Like it was: before the Dark Kingdom, before the moonstone – before they'd been ripped apart by a mind-numbing twist of unfair fate.

How can she possibly get _rid_ of his things, when his things are the only proof that he'd ever been here in this castle with her at all? She hadn't stayed in the eerie bedroom for very long, hadn't been able to bear the sheer emptiness of the room without him there in it – unable to bear the way that everything remains so untouched, collecting dust there in his sudden, morose absence.

But from his closet, she'd snatched his old, leather vest – the one that molded around his strong shoulders. The one that still smells like him. The one that she'd grabbed the collar of, the collar which she'd latched onto in order to tug him into their first kiss – unexpected and inexperienced, initiated by her innocent lips, but guided to a deeper place by his knowing hand.

The vest that he'd been wearing on the day they'd met.

Rapunzel, in her ever-presently sullen mood, has just blown out the company of the candles which had provided a dull, golden light, dancing upon the walls of her otherwise dark bedroom – now, there is nothing but the gleaming illumination of the full moon breaking through the windows to guide her movements.

She's just pulled her purple day dress over her head, leaving herself in only her corset and underwear, desperate to somehow _feel him_ against her skin, even if it's just pretend. Grabbing for the vest from its new hanging place on the corner of her broad headboard, Rapunzel clutches the soft, worn leather between her fingers.

Cassandra had first noticed the vest hanging there above her head when she'd come to awaken Rapunzel one morning. She'd chided the heartbroken princess for keeping the constant reminder of his betrayal right there on her very bed – allowing that betrayal to seep into her dreams, in the form of daily nightmares about him leaving.

But she can't help herself. Rapunzel knows that Cass, per usual, makes a valid point – knows that she's only asking, _begging_ , to be plagued by his beautiful face in her dreams. But the vest is her only way of keeping him close, and she _wants_ him to be close – even if that closeness only comes in the form of a worn-out vest, which is shrouded by painful memories: memories which involve a crown, and a tower, and golden lanterns, and a new dream which put it all to shame.

It's not long before Rapunzel is sinking onto the edge of her bed, not long before the vest has been brought to her nose, her face buried in the familiar leather – not long before the tears of her first real heartbreak are beginning to shamelessly fall for the hundredth time this week alone. Now, she's been heartbroken before. She'd been heartbroken the day that he'd died in her arms, there in her tower. But this kind of heartbreak… to know that he's still out there somewhere, _choosing_ to stay away from her… somehow hurts much worse.

_God, it still smells just like him!_

It's only here, in the dark shadows of her bedroom, that she can truly grieve him. She cannot do so in the daylight, cannot even bring herself to _think_ about him then – not when the lovesick princess has Cassandra hell-bent on convincing her that she's better off without him, telling Rapunzel that he's a _'sorry son-of-a-bitch who took the easy way out.'_ Not when her father has convinced himself that he'd _'always known that Eugene hadn't_ _ **really**_ _changed all along,'_ that the former thief was _'always bound to break his little girl's heart.'_

But, despite typically trusting her dearest friend's better judgement, and despite her father's blunt, but usually well-guided wisdom, Rapunzel doesn't believe their harsh words – she _can't_ believe the horrible things which are muttered about Eugene in the wake of the still-lingering anger. She can't bring herself to believe that Eugene is still anything but the most perfect man in the entire world, regardless of his ultimate betrayal.

He'd betrayed her to _protect_ her, and she knows that. Even if no one else understands, she does. He was always sacrificing himself to protect her.

And now, she's sobbing into his vest – because now, it's the only way that she can still feel close to him, even if it's a sorry substitute for the real thing.

Finally lifting her heavy, red-rimmed eyes, her head pounding from the rush and pressure of her sudden tears, Rapunzel catches the glint of a soft, blue light shining through her balcony doors – a light which couldn't possibly be echoed from the moon itself.

Discarding the vest onto the bed, she slowly rises, padding to the French doors which lead to her balcony. Rapunzel's heart pounds in her chest, because there's a dark figure standing there on the balcony, staring back at her. Her heart pounds, because she would recognize the shape of that body anywhere, even in the harshest darkness.

Rapunzel slowly pushes her balcony doors open, the cold night air rushing against her face, covering her scantily dressed body in goosebumps.

"Eugene." She breathes, having dreamed about this moment for so many sleepless nights – nights which she'd cried herself to sleep, when she would finally fall into an unsatisfying, nightmare-plagued slumber – dreaming about him, and his voice, and his utterly handsome face.

And now, here he is! He's home, he's finally come _home_ to her!

"Eugene!"

Her shining, emerald eyes light up, and she scampers forward, ready to run into his arms. But Eugene holds out a hand before she can get too close, stopping the stunned princess from taking another shaky step toward him, keeping their distance as he leans against the balcony railing – because if they actually touch, it'll only be harder to leave.

Even though she hates to admit it, he looks so good like this, so handsome in this new, all-black outfit – so handsome that it actually _hurts_ to look at him. Rapunzel's arms – arms which have been restless to hold him for weeks now – fall at her sides with a pathetic, shameful _slap_ against the outer plane of her bare, trembling legs.

"Don't."

"Eugene, what… what's wrong? Why are you here?" Her eyes glaze over with worry – worry which glints mockingly back at him in the dull moonlight – looking him over closely. "Are you hurt?"

_Don't look at me with those beautiful, worried eyes! I don't deserve your concern, not anymore! I'm only here because I'm selfish, and weak, and couldn't go on any longer without seeing a glimpse of you, without knowing that you'll be okay without me._

But Eugene doesn't say that, doesn't say anything other than that heart shattering _'Don't'_ – he only watches from afar, watches the movements of her petite, shivering body as she tentatively creeps toward him – watches as she unmeaningly coaxes him in, just like she always does.

' _Don't do it! Don't go inside, you'll never be able to leave her if you do. The moonstone will be in danger of being destroyed if you're around her, and if she gets hurt, it'll be_ _ **all your fault.**_ _'_

 _Shut up. Just… just_ _**shut up.** _ _I don't want you here right now._

"C-come inside. It's cold."

He just stands there, all gorgeous in the moonlight, not making any apparent moves toward her – not in the way that her body is absolutely _aching_ to run to him.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, Blondie."

Her knees go weak at the endearing nickname, the butterflies in her stomach bursting from their weeks-long, dormant slumber.

 _Blondie! He's still calling me Blondie! Maybe that's a good sign. Maybe it means… it means that Eugene –_ _**my** _ _Eugene – is still in there somewhere!_

"Why are you here if you won't even come inside?"

"Because, I…" He gazes longingly at her, realizing that he doesn't have a good enough answer for selfishly showing up like this – for being so cruel as to put himself right in front of her, just within her reach, only to inevitably rip himself away again.

"I just wanted to see your face." Eugene admits quietly, pissed off at himself for his inability to be strong around her. "I didn't really mean for you to notice me standing out here. I'm sorry, I… I shouldn't have come."

He suddenly turns to leave, but she runs to him, abruptly closing the painful distance – distance overflowing at the brim with agony, and duplicity, and missing one another _so much_ that it's physically painful to continue to be apart. She stops just before him, though, afraid that he'll put out a hand again to keep her away, afraid that his rejection will hurt too much to recover from.

"I've wanted to see yours, too!" Rapunzel leans forward, restraining herself from completely falling against his chest, her eyebrows pushed together in twisted pain. "Come here!"

He stands there, still only staring at her – unknowingly to Rapunzel, engaging in a paralyzing, inner battle of right and wrong – a battle of need vs. want, a battle of desire vs. responsibility, lust and love vs. duty and destiny; battling a voice which is not entirely his own.

"Eugene, _please_."

She looks like she might cry, just as she had been sobbing into his vest only mere moments ago, and Eugene doesn't want that – because if she cries, he's going to fall into her all over again, and he really isn't going to be able to leave tonight if he does.

Eugene sighs, defeated, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers before stepping forward, watching guiltily as her chest deflates in relief. She scampers back to the balcony doors, ushering him inside of her dark bedroom, gently clicking the doors shut behind them.

If he wasn't in too deep just a few minutes ago, he definitely is now.

"Sit down."

He does, sinking onto her bed, watching wordlessly as she hastily sits down beside him on her knees, legs tucked under her. She peers closely at him, as if she's waiting for something bad to happen, placing a gentle hand on the side of his neck to force him to look at her.

"Are you okay? Do you need help?"

He hurts her, leaves her without warning, and absolutely _destroys_ the future which they'd always talked about having together… and _this_ is how she reacts to seeing him again – she asks if _he's_ okay?

Leave it to Eugene to fall in love with the most compassionate woman to walk the planet, a woman which he could never do anything to deserve – not ever, but especially not now.

 _No, I'm not_ _**okay.** _ _I miss you too much to ever be okay again._

That's what Eugene thinks – what he _wants_ to say – though he doesn't have the courage to voice these vulnerable thoughts to her. Because if he does, she'll feel guilty, because she's so empathetic and sweet like that. She'll _pity him_ , and he doesn't deserve her pity.

Not after what he's done to her – to _them_.

"Everything's fine." Eugene mumbles, averting his eyes from her face.

Because if he looks at her for too long, he's going to do something incredibly stupid, like kiss her.

Or maybe, stupid as he is, he'll skip the kissing altogether and just fuck her.

' _ **Whoa**_ _… easy, tiger. We can't go_ _ **there**_ _.'_

 _Shut up! I said I don't_ _**want** _ _you here tonight!_

' _You can't get rid of me that easily…'_

"Where have you been?" Rapunzel asks, not entirely sure if she really wants to know the answer.

"Just… around." He states dully, unable to look her in the eyes, not wanting to admit that he's been trying to build the courage to – no, that he's been trying to talk himself _out of_ climbing her balcony for the last few nights.

 _Nice, Eugene. Real nice. If she doesn't_ _**already** _ _hate your guts for leaving her, she definitely will now. You're such a dick, and she deserves much better than you. Maybe she'll find it someday._

 _No! Don't think about that. Don't think about_ _**someone else** _ _loving her. Not right now._

"Oh. Okay."

Eugene watches as she shifts uncomfortably, watches her every little movement as Rapunzel anxiously drums her fingers against her bare thighs. He tries _very hard_ not to think about how much of her bare skin is being exposed to him right now, tries to ignore that _aching_ _feeling_ bubbling up in his chest.

 _Oh, no._ That feeling is _desire_. Really, really strong, undeniable desire coursing through his veins, just like it has a thousand times before when he's looked at her for a little too long.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I can't do this, I can't feel this way. Not anymore. Not after what I've done –_

"I'm sorry, I… I should go. I never should've come here, I never should've… this was a big mistake –"

"Oh, Eugene, wait!"

In a mindless, purely instinctual, yet completely fluid and familiar motion, she's moved from the spot on her knees beside him, hastily straddling his lap – not purely with the intent of being sexual, but only because it appeared to be the quickest way to keep him from rising from the bed.

"Please wait." She pleads, eyes big and begging him to stay – and he wants to.

_God, he wants to._

"Rapunzel –"

"Don't go, not yet!" She allows her legs to tentatively sink into the bed once more, as it appears that he's not going to push her away. "Please, just… just listen. It's my turn to talk."

' _No, don't listen to her! She's going to get into your head, she's going to_ _ **distract**_ _you! She'll distract you from your destiny! She's going to destroy the moonstone –'_

"Okay." Eugene agrees shakily, only because she's sinking into his lap, knees placed on either side of his legs – her position leaving little to the imagination, a million sensual memories forcing their way to the forefront of his racing mind, making it so very hard not to touch her. "I'm listening, Blondie."

"I don't want you to go." Rapunzel states simply, breathless from her movement upon him, as if straddling him has knocked the wind out of her – and maybe it has, because it's _definitely_ knocked the wind out of him. "Whatever you're going through, Eugene… we can work it out _together_. Right here where you belong."

She smiles softly, so beautiful in the moonlight, and his heart absolutely breaks at the look on her face, which all but says, _'I really need some reassurance right now, and I only want it from you.'_

"Where you belong with _me_. No matter what's happened, you still belong with me." Rapunzel pauses, her voice dropping to an insecure whisper, a look of uncertainty crossing her face in the dull light. "Don't you think so?"

 _Yes! Yes, I do… I do, I still believe that, I still_ _**want** _ _that!_

"Rapunzel –"

"Aren't I still your dream?"

 _Oh, God, please don't ask me that. Don't ask me that, because I_ _**want** _ _to say yes… I want to say yes so badly! Because yes, you are. Of course you are!_

' _You can't have dreams, not anymore. Your dream – your_ _ **destiny**_ _– is protecting the moonstone. Protecting it from_ _ **her**_ _, from the destruction of the sundrop.'_

 _I said,_ _**get out of my head!** _

Instead of baring his deepest thoughts – his deepest _desires_ – Eugene's eyes narrow, a frustrating, relentless pain pricking in his temple. Not because he's angry with her, but because he's angry with _himself_ : angry with himself for even making her believe – for even making her _consider_ – that he doesn't still love her more than life itself. Angry with himself for making her question whether or not he would still die for her, whether he will love her until the sun spontaneously combusts or until his breathing finally gives out, whichever comes first.

"Things are different now, Rapunzel."

"I know that…" She shifts again in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist now, seating herself fully on him – and Eugene hates himself for liking it. "I know they are."

He tries not to look at her, tries not to give himself away.

"But are they really so different that we aren't still meant to be, that I'm not your dream anymore? That you don't…" Her eyes fall, her bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly. "That you don't love me anym –"

"Don't say it." Eugene groans deeply, covering his face with his hands – as if _that's_ going to be enough to make all of this go away – unable to bear what she's about to ask.

When he looks at her again, her eyes are rimmed with tears, her bottom lip fully trembling, and it takes everything within himself not to lean forward and take it between his.

"Don't say it, because you know it's not true."

The miserable princess shakes her head, and Eugene despises himself for making her cry – despises himself for not being here to wipe her tears away every single night.

"I don't know anything anymore. Not without you."

Her arms wrap heavily around his neck, pulling her chest against his, drawing him in for the warm comfort which she's yearned for from him for far too long.

"I know… I know." Eugene whispers, hugging her back – though he knows that he probably shouldn't, because feeling her body pressed against his, if only for a moment, is going to make it hard as hell to leave her. "Of course I do, Blondie. Of course I still love you."

He murmurs the endearing words softly into her hair, not realizing until now how much he's needed this comfort from her, as well.

"Then why won't you stop this silliness! Why won't you just… just _come home?_ " She pulls back, angrily wiping her tears, a heartbreaking frown tugging at her lips. "Why did it take you so long to come back to me?"

 _I want to! Oh, Blondie, you have_ _**no idea** _ _how badly I've wanted to come home to you, for_ _**weeks** _ _now, since the day that you left the Dark Kingdom… but I can't! You're not safe anymore, not if I stay! You're not safe around me…_

"I'm trying to protect you –"

"And why can't you protect me here?" Rapunzel demands, and he reaches forward to brush away her tears, but she swats his hand away, desperate for an answer. "Why can't you protect me from _home?_ _This_ is your home, Eugene, right here with me! You know it's true!"

"Because, sweetheart, it just…"

Eugene grimaces between whispers, reaching forward to caress her face – despite her clear (and rightful) anger with him, she leans into his touch, her recent rollercoaster of emotions taking her on a late-night, moonlit ride.

"It just doesn't work that way. _This_ doesn't work that way…"

Taking his jaw into her hands suddenly, overtaken by the raw emotion of the stressful moment, Rapunzel kisses him on the mouth, quick and almost chaste, only once.

"But it could! It _could_ work that way, if you wanted it to! We… we're in love, we're meant to be! I'm sure the moonstone could make some sort of _exception_ for us! Maybe if you just ask –"

"Blondie, I can't… it won't work –"

"How do you know if you won't even _try?_ " She pleads, taking him by the collar, fresh tears forming behind the glass of her once-so-bright, sparkling eyes. "Why won't you fight for me?"

Now it's Eugene's turn to be frustrated, the stress of the last several weeks bearing down on him without forgiveness.

"I _am!_ Everything that I'm _doing_ is me fighting for you, Rapunzel! You have to believe that! You _have_ to believe in something, or you're never going to get through this!"

 _Translation:_ _**I** _ _have to believe in something, or_ _**I'm** _ _never going to get through this._

"I hate you for saying that. I _hate_ _you_ for sitting there, for lecturing _me_ about keeping the faith when things look bad! I hate you for leaving me!" She shoots back, all teary-eyed and teeth gritted, the sheer closeness of his body making it harder and harder for her to focus by the minute. "I don't _have_ anything to believe in without you!"

The harsh reality of Rapunzel's statement hangs between them like a heavy weight, a thick fog which they cannot even _hope_ to navigate without the help of one another – the harsh reality that he has taken _everything_ from her, without even asking her what _she_ wanted.

' _I hate you':_ words which she's never said to him before, words which she's never even _thought_ about saying until this heated, escalated moment. Words which she doesn't even mean.

Words which shoot through him like a freshly-sharpened sword.

"You're the only thing that I believe in, you're the only thing I want." Rapunzel whispers against his skin, leaning forward to place a simple, unexpected kiss to his neck – an apology for her blunt, misguided words. "I still _want you_ , Eugene."

His eyes flutter shut, swept up in the goodness of it all, having spent enough sleepless nights in the past weeks thinking about this, thinking about her lips being upon his skin again.

"I still… I want you, too, Blondie…" Eugene kicks himself for saying it – all breathless and pathetic, after she's just told him that she _hates him_ for what he's done – absolutely kicks himself.

"I missed you…" She continues to kiss his neck, slow and tantalizing, her soft mouth so warm and familiar against his longing skin, sucking for just a moment before moving to the next spot.

He cranes his neck, providing her better access in spite of himself, trying _very_ hard to ignore the sedated grind of her hips against his.

"Rapunzel…" Eugene whispers shakily, his brain short-circuiting in the hands of her unforgiving lips, fingers falling to her hips as she presses them against his. "We can't do this…"

She leans back a little, and the loss of her weight pressed against him, makes Eugene want to whimper and complain. She leans back, half-lidded eyes, blown pupils, the plain desire written all over her face.

She was never one for trying to hide it. Not from him.

"Why not?"

"B-because… because I hurt you." Eugene breathes huskily, trying his damn hardest to restrain himself, trying _so very hard_ not to shove her hips back down onto his, trying very hard to ignore the pressure steadily building between his legs, deep in his stomach. "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

And he doesn't. Because the thought of hurting her is killing him, and he should've known better: should've known that coming here would lead to _this_ – what with their emotions still so raw, still on a vulnerable high in the wake of recent events.

"You won't." She whispers back, a completely empty promise.

She pulls away just enough for him to see the lingering trust in her eyes – his sweet princess still _trusts_ him, and this fact haunts Eugene like nothing else, because he doesn't deserve her trust – not anymore. Not after everything that he's done to break her precious, blindsided heart.

Fuck, he's so hard, and he hates himself for it. She's practically naked in his lap, still so willing to _give herself_ to him, even after every horrible thing that he's done to hurt her – _of course_ he's hard!

And he's stupid – so, _so stupid_. Why did he come back here, why did he think that it would be a good idea to come here? Why can't he control himself enough to _actually_ keep her safe, to keep himself away from her? Why can't he control himself _around her?_ Why can't he control his disgusting, shameful, _dirty_ thoughts?

Because he's still so in love with her that it _makes_ him stupid. This love for her clouds his head, and makes him forget about everything else, and makes him do stupid things – like sneak up here to see her, when he knows _full well_ that he shouldn't.

"I want you, Blondie, I do! But –"

"I want you, too." Rapunzel rushes to reassure him, cutting Eugene off before he can fully finish his thought. She's so far gone, not even listening anymore, allowing her worst fears to be dissolved in the words which she's ached to hear from his lips for _weeks_. "I've never wanted you _so_ badly."

"But I _can't_. I can't do this. I can't feel you, I can't _want you_ like this…" Eugene finishes, rambling now, placing a hand on either side of her face, _begging_ her to understand. "N-not anymore… not after what I've done –"

She deflates a little, and it kills him, watching her fall apart in his lap – she's falling apart _because_ _of him_ – and not in the good way.

"Why? Because it'll make you want to stay?"

These words, falling from _her_ mouth, hit him like a thousand pounds of bricks. Eugene knows that Rapunzel doesn't say it to be alluring, doesn't say it because she means to torture him, or because she enjoys seeing him squirm. She's not asking because she wants to get back at him, not asking because she wants to make him hurt in the way that he's hurt her, or anything of the sort.

She asks this of him because she's genuinely curious, and he can tell. She's always so curious, even in sorrowful moments like this one. It's something that he's always loved about her.

 _Loved_ – because if he acknowledges how much he still _loves_ everything about her – present tense – he'll fall apart in her hands, and he won't be able to leave, and that won't get them anywhere. It'll just end in them falling into bed together, which will only make it that much harder to walk away.

"Because it'll make me want to stay." Eugene whispers in guilt-ridden confirmation, and his guilt only spikes when her eyes light up, hope evading her previous look of lustful affliction.

"So stay! Oh, Eugene, _please_ stay!"

Her thighs, drawn up in her unchecked, recently infrequent excitement, wrap a little tighter around his hips as she nudges herself forward, desperate for more contact – for _any_ contact.

"I need you here with me, I can't do this without you! Stay, and everything will be just like it was!"

_More empty promises._

"Please, please, Eugene. _Stay!_ I love you. I love you so much, and we'll get through this, together, just like we always have, and –"

Usually, Eugene would never be able to deny her of anything that she wanted, unable to deny any request which had fallen from her pretty lips. But right now, he _has_ to deny her, has to deny _himself_ – if only for her own good.

So, even though it kills him, Eugene grabs both of her hands in his, pulling them from around his neck, watching that hope in her eyes burn out just as quickly as it had arrived. He tries to be firm, tries to be believable – tries to be _responsible_ – but even _he_ doesn't believe himself that he won't stay – that he won't stay, at least for tonight, because he's in too deep with her now not to.

" _No_ , Rapunzel. I can't! I can't stay. Staying will only hurt you. There's still things you don't know, things you don't understand, things that I can't –"

_Things that I can't protect you from._

But she's cutting him off with an offended narrow of her eyes – cutting him off before he can make any sorry excuses, before he can explain why he's disappeared for weeks on end – before he can explain that everything he's doing, is for her! So that she has a _chance_ , so that she can live her life without fear of being completely destroyed by some _stupid_ , magical stone – even if that means he must find a way to somehow live without her.

"Don't tell me there's things that I don't understand. Don't you sit there, and make me feel like I'm not old enough, or smart enough to understand why you're doing all of this. Not when you're _choosing_ not to tell me! Not when you've been gone for _weeks_ , and haven't even told me why, or where you've been!"

Eugene sighs heavily, knowing that he deserves that: knowing that he deserves the sharp edge of her tone, the accusing, betrayed look in her eyes.

"I know, Blondie. You're smart as hell, you always have been." He runs a hand through her hair, trying his best to provide some half-assed comfort, not wanting to get so attached again that he won't be able to walk away like he needs to. "Look… I didn't mean it that way, I just…"

Breathing in shakily, Eugene tries to explain himself without getting so bitter about their circumstance that it'll appear as though he's bitter with _her_.

"I just don't want you to get hurt, okay? That's why I did this! I did this to protect _you!_ "

"I know, I know!" Rapunzel whimpers, drawing her face close to his, the edge in her voice completely gone, once more relapsing into the longing and forgiveness which he does not deserve.

And there she goes again – her lips haunting his, pressing herself into him, legs wrapped around his middle even tighter. There she goes again, making him want her – making him so hard for her that it actually hurts.

"But I don't care, I don't care if I get hurt! I want you! I _love_ you. Please, Eugene, _stay_. Stay, stay, stay…"

Before he can stop her – before he can stop _himself_ – she's dragging him into a passionate kiss which has no time to cross the bridge of sweet, introductory pecks. No, she's immediately coaxing his half-reluctant tongue into tangling itself with hers – her movements quickly shifting from pining, to completely desperate.

Eugene moans into her mouth in spite of himself, because she always tastes _so good,_ and it's been _so long._

' _Get away from her! You're going to kill her! She's in danger if she's around you, the_ _ **moonstone**_ _is in danger of being destroyed around her –'_

 _Shut up! Shut up, shut up! I don't care about the stupid moonstone, not right now!_ Eugene screams to the ever-present, nagging voice, begging the twisted, manipulating sorceress to _**get out of his head,**_ just for this one _fucking_ night. _'You don't know what it's like! You don't know what it's like to love her, to_ _ **want**_ _her –'_

"Blondie, I can't…" Eugene's words say one thing as his lips brush against hers, but the desperate, gasping tone of his voice says _quite_ another, and he knows it. "We can't…"

"Please, Eugene, I _need_ you…" She's begging him now, any sense of dignity lost, fingers dancing upon his jaw – the agony of being away from him suddenly too much, finally ripping her apart once and for all. "Please, please, _please_. I need you. It's _okay_ , you won't hurt me! I prom –"

 _Don't promise me things,_ _**please** _ _don't promise me things! I don't deserve it, I never did!_

"I will! I will, because in the morning I won't –" _I won't be here._ "I can't… I can't stay, Rapunzel, and it's going to hurt you –"

"Not any more than it already has!" Rapunzel cries, and the pure _truth_ of her harsh statement shoves through Eugene's heart like a sharp, glistening blade – like the blade that had once been shoved into his side when he'd tried to save her once – that was _years_ ago now.

He never would've imagined that day that he would've been given a second chance at life. He: a man who did not deserve an _ounce_ of good karma, let alone a bucket load of good karma in the form of _her_. He'd made peace with his situation that day, had made peace with the fact that she would be his dying dream, his dying desire. He'd made peace with losing his life too soon, so that she would have the opportunity to live her own. But then – oh, _then_ – he'd been lucky enough to spend two, beautiful _years_ with her! He'd cut her hair, he'd ruin her life, over and over again… whatever he needed to do to save her. To give her a fighting chance.

And now, he really _can_ save her. He can! If he would just _stay away from her –_

"If you don't make love to me tonight," She reaches down, breathing heavily, fingers beginning to undo his shirt, her eyes silently begging him to tell her to stop – if only because she knows that he won't. "I'll… I'll never forgive you."

 _Why? Why in the_ _**hell** _ _did she have to say that?_

_Because she knows that the thought of her never forgiving you, is slowly killing you inside. She can see right through you, she always has – she can see that you still want her._

"You'll never forgive me, anyway."

_For doing this – for leaving you. For destroying our dream._

She only shakes her head, running her fingers down his chest as she pushes his shirt from around his shoulders.

"Maybe someday I'll be able to. Just give me this, please. Just give me this one thing…"

_This one night._

Despite the voice in his head which is _screaming_ at him not to (because how could he possibly deny her of this, after everything that he's already taken from her, from their future together), Eugene's fingers rip at the laces on her corset, determined to feel every last inch of her skin in his hands – if only because this very well might be the last time that he's _ever_ able to, and he's not about to waste it.

After a few long, agonizing moments of his adept fingers working at the laces, her corset drops to the floor with a heavy _**thunk**_ , and she immediately presses her bare chest against his. They moan softly together at the sheer feeling of flesh upon yielding flesh – these many, prolonged weeks spent apart, having been too much for either of their bodies to handle this moment gracefully.

She presses her lips to his again, kissing him hungrily as his thumbs ever-so-gently brush her nipples, soft as a ghost, causing her head to tilt slightly back, a weepy moan escaping her mouth. He's always loved being able to make her moan like that, has always loved her lack of nervousness when it comes to showing how much she wants him.

"Do you remember the first time we ever made love?" She leans forward once more to whisper against his ear, her breathing soft and shallow as he continues to softly fondle her breasts.

Of course he remembers. It had been the night of her nineteenth birthday, and he'd snuck into her bedroom late in the evening, hoping to spend a little time alone with her, not at all expecting their slowly escalated intimacy to take such a grand, _perfect_ step. He'd always let her lead them through their intimacy – had always wanted her to feel like she was in complete control – he was just the lucky son-of-a-bitch who got to teach her how everything worked.

And God, she was a _fast_ learner.

It was the best night of his life – the way that she'd trusted him so blindly, the way that she'd felt around him: all inviting, and tight, and made just for him. It was the best night of his life, aside from maybe the night with the lanterns – well, before shit went haywire, and before she'd been taken from him by the old witch that had once taken her as a baby. _Life_ with her had been perfect – before shit went haywire, and before he took her from himself in hopes of keeping her safe.

"I remember." Eugene breathes, a sickeningly dizzying plethora of memories flooding his already too-vulnerable mental state.

"I remember being so scared…" Rapunzel continues, guiding him down memory lane with hushed tones, letting go of a little, breathless laugh which sends a pang through Eugene's heart. "But I trusted you, trusted that I was safe with you. And then it felt _so_ good, just like you promised it would. I've never felt as close to you as I did that night."

"I know…" Eugene closes his eyes, recalling what it had been like to see her completely naked for the first time, having always been partially covered with some sort of clothing when they had fooled around up until that point.

She was _so perfect_. She still is, even now, with her hips slowly moving against his, making him want more, making him want to _feel her_ – in spite of himself, and in spite of everything that he's done since that first, perfect time.

"I'll never forget how that night felt."

"I won't either, Blondie."

 _I'll never be able to forget_ _ **you**_ _,_ Eugene thinks to himself. But he doesn't say it out loud, not wanting to break her heart any more than he already has. _I couldn't forget everything we had, not even if I wanted to._

"I've wanted you so badly."

The vulnerable, airy words catch in Rapunzel's throat, panted between hungry kisses, the honesty of it all shooting a newfound lust right through him, reminding Eugene of just how _wrong_ this is – reminding him of how much he's going to hurt her for doing this, even if it doesn't feel that way in the heat of the moment.

But _God_ , when did doing the wrong thing start feeling so _fucking good_ again? Eugene doesn't remember, and he supposes, it doesn't really matter now – not when her words sound so perfect, not when those words are practically begging him to do horrible, pray-your-father-doesn't hear, things to her.

"I haven't been able to think about _anything_ but you since you've been gone."

"I've wanted you, too." Eugene breathes quietly, admitting the truth in his heart, despite his best efforts not to. Though, the lewd look on his face has already given him away, so he might as well return the favor of her blunt honesty. "I always do…"

With this bout of guilt-filled honesty, before Eugene can talk himself out of it, he hooks his fingers into her underwear, pulling them down painfully slow. She rises from his lap for just long enough to aid him, kicking her underwear the rest of the way off – clearly, _hopelessly_ eager to feel him without the restriction of clothes, guilt, or the confusion of trying to navigate these deeply uncharted waters.

With steady, experienced hands, he guides her back into his lap, reaching between her shaky thighs to feel the wetness dripping there – wetness for him. _Because_ of him. He pushes a single finger inside of her, watching – _mesmerized_ – as her eyes flutter shut.

"Blondie… you're so –"

"Mmm. You always make me feel this way." She hums, cutting him off with a quivery moan, grinding down onto his finger, desperate for _some_ sort of relief after weeks of being apart – after weeks of going without this special kind of intimacy which they had once frequented so often. "You're the only one I could ever want this much."

And it's true – only he could make her ache between her legs like this, only he could make her want another person so badly. He hadn't realized how much he's wanted to hear these hushed confessions from her, hadn't realized how much he'd needed this reassurance that he could still make her feel this way, even after he's ruined things.

"I want you inside of me." She whispers against his lips, dragging him down for another heated kiss, and hell would freeze over before he remains in his right mind long enough to deny her of this.

If Cass knew that he was here in the castle – if _her father_ knew that he was here… if her father knew what they were doing, if her father knew that they were alone in her bed, if her father knew that _he_ , even after betraying her the way that he had, were here, making her beg him for dirty things in this way –

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter, because she's desperate, and she's uncomfortable – it's actually _uncomfortable_ not to have him inside of her.

And even if they _do_ get caught together, it won't matter. It won't matter, because nothing – _no one_ – could pull her from him tonight. Not Cass, not her father, not even a thousand guards. And if he doesn't take her, if he _leaves_ before this deep void can finally be filled after missing him for so long, even if its only filled for just this one, blissful night… she'll cry. She'll cry and cry, drowning in her own sadness until she can feel him again.

This is her fall from grace.

Rapunzel knows it, and she doesn't care. She doesn't care if her father finds out, doesn't care if someone hears her moaning his name, doesn't care if _her father_ is the one to hear her – she doesn't care if this wrecks her in the morning. She _can't_ care, not right now, not after spending so much time missing him so badly. Not when he's finally right here in front of her. Not when her desire for him is at an all-time high, her conscience for doing the _'smart, responsible thing'_ at an all-time low, all forms of caution thrown completely to the wind. She wants him, has wanted him for _weeks_ now. And she's going to have him, even if it kills her.

And it will – she knows, when the sun comes up tomorrow, it will. It will kill her. It'll bury her six-feet-under, to wake up and realize that he's not there in her bed anymore. But it doesn't matter, not right now. The _only_ thing that matters, is him – him, and the feeling of his blissful friction inside of her.

With frantic hands, the impatient princess reaches between them, undoing his pants and pushing them down, taking his underwear with them, rising from the bed to properly do so. Once she's settled herself back into his lap, she hovers over him, teasing his dick with the slick desire dripping between her legs.

"I love you." She breathes, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of him pressed against her, yet not quite where she wants him yet.

"I love you, too." He responds in kind, because he does. He still does – even with her driving him insane, teasingly hovering over him like that, somehow restraining herself.

Taking his wrist between her slender fingers, she kisses each of his fingertips softly. Her tears, glittering like crystals upon her cheeks in the hollow moonlight, fall upon his chest, and Eugene _hates_ himself for making her feel this way – for making this beautiful reconciliation of theirs, so horribly painful for her.

But he watches anyway, watches her like he might never see her again – and, more likely than not, he won't.

When she reaches his index finger, she seamlessly takes it into her mouth and _sucks_ , drawing a low moan from deep in his chest. As her tongue makes its way back up his finger, she finally – _slowly_ – sinks down onto him, gently pushing him inside of her, and he can't help but stare as her eyes roll back, her jaw gone slack.

" _Oh_ … Eugene…"

It feels like they were never apart.

She moans his name, and he can't believe that he actually allowed himself to forget that perfect look she gets on her face when she's experiencing pure pleasure brought about by him – can't believe that he forgot what it sounds like to have his name falling from her lips in that innocently sensual way of hers.

" _Fuck_." He breathes, knowing that he probably shouldn't swear around her, but unable to keep the profanities to himself, allowing his head to fall against her shoulder. "Fuck, Blondie…"

He doesn't move – just allows himself to _feel_ her, because he's wanted this for so long – and it's intoxicating. It's intoxicating, all of it: the smell of her skin, the warm tightness surrounding him, the pathetic torture of the whole thing – the torture of knowing that, after tonight, he will never be able to feel this with her again.

After tonight, they'll never get to make love again. They'll never get to fuck like lovesick teenagers who can't get enough of each other, careful to muffle one another's moans so that they won't get caught in her bedroom together in the middle of the night, too in love to care if they so frequently lose sleep just to have a little uninterrupted time together. They'll never be married, they'll never have children, they'll never be able to grow old together – their dreams left unfulfilled, all because he had to learn the truth of his past, the unescapable curse of his lineage.

All because he had to realize the irreversible harm which that truth could bestow upon the woman he loves, if he would've just stood there and done nothing to save her from the potential of history repeating itself. No, her blood would not be on his hands. He couldn't bear that, wouldn't have been able to live with himself if he'd allowed her to grab the moonstone – if he'd just stood there and let the moonstone destroy her, just as it had destroyed his mother.

He would not make the same mistakes that his father had.

So what's this, what they're doing right now, falling back into each other like this? Is acting like this, acting upon their lingering love and heady lust, as though nothing had ever happened in the Dark Kingdom, not a mistake?

 _No – loving her will_ _**never** _ _be a mistake._

Eugene pulls back, running both hands through her hair as she grinds down onto him, her movements painfully unhurried, ultimately resting his fingers on her cheeks with a feather-light touch. He's almost _afraid_ to hold her. He's scared that she'll just evaporate in his hands if his fingers linger on any particular part of her for too long.

"Rapunzel?"

"Mmm?" She responds half-heartedly, swept up in her own little world of guilt and weeks-worth of longing finally being tampered, if only for a little while.

"I missed you _so much_."

Her eyes snap open – all dizzyingly green, and filling with the tears of her greatest fears finally being rebutted. She's wondered this for _weeks_ now, plagued by 'what if' after self-deprecating 'what if:' _What if he doesn't love me anymore? What if he doesn't miss me like I miss him?_

"Oh, I missed you, too!" She whimpers, pulling him close, shifting her hips into him to get more comfortable – completely filling herself with him, moving just enough to evoke a low groan from him in response to her tantalizing little movements. "I love you."

"I love you, too." He whispers, latching his fingers around her hips, wordlessly asking her to ride him with a bit more enthusiasm.

So, she does, grinding her hips into his with shallow and meaningful, though a bit quickened, movements – keeping him deep within her, never wanting to break this restored intimacy – even if this intimacy will be short-lived, and surely broken again in the morning.

She moves slowly again, _painfully_ slow, and this reconciliation of theirs, it hurts – hurts in the way that feels _so fucking good._

"I'm sorry, Blondie... God, I'm _so_ incredibly _sorry_." Eugene apologies into her skin over and over again, peppering her neck with guilt-ridden kisses as she slowly slides him in and out of herself, moaning as he breathes countless _'I'm sorry's'_ against her shoulder.

And he is. He is sorry.

"I love you so much, Rapunzel. I've always loved you..."

"I know you are. And I love _you_ , Eugene. I _always_ will."

And it doesn't matter how many times their lips utter _'I love you'_ tonight: it will never be overkill, it will never feel overdone. He would say it a million times, if that's what it would take to make her believe it again, to prove himself worthy of her unconditional love – worthy of her forgiveness, after he's lit their dreams on fire and walked away, leaving her standing there alone, coughing through the smoke as it all goes up in flames.

Tonight, it looks like they'll be going up in flames together.

The slowness of it all is starting to kill him a little, though Eugene doesn't quite feel an aching need to flip her around and mindlessly fuck her as he's done so many times before – at least, not yet. No, this isn't about that – this isn't about pounding one another into the bed, this isn't about chasing a desperate, short-lived release. This isn't about simply fulfilling his lust.

This is about short-lived reconciliation. This is about drowning in the delusion that, if they love another hard enough, everything will be alright. This is about filling _a void in his heart_ : this is about giving in to the painfully unescapable feeling of sheer _emptiness_ which only occurs when he is away from her.

And here she is: all green eyes, and little moans, and that ever-present desire to please him, to make him happy. But he wants to make her happy, too – if only for tonight. If only for tonight, he wants the emptiness to go away.

"How ya doin', Blondie?"

"Mmm… _good_ …" She smiles, pushing him deeper inside of her in response, rolling her hips with a bit more calculation. "Does it feel good for you?"

 _How can she even_ _**ask** _ _that, as if she doesn't already know what she does to me – as if my own, uncontrollable moans aren't enough to answer this question for themselves?_

" _God_ , yes. You're so s-soft… and tight…"

And then, she's grinding a little harder, a little deeper, overtaken by his sensual words. And his eyes roll back, his cock surrounded on all sides by the dizzying warmth of her.

"Oh, Blondie… I love you _so_ much. I'll never forgive myself for letting this go. I hate myself… I _hate_ myself for –"

"Shh, _shh_ … don't say that. I know what you're going to say, and I don't want you to." She comforts him with a soft palm pressed to his jaw, silencing his mindless rambling, and Eugene feels an immense guilt rush through him – because he should be the one comforting _her_ right now. "Just feel. Just feel this with me, please."

Eugene nods in agreement, allowing himself to just _feel_ her. He nods in agreement that this perfect, rose-colored moment should not be ruined by a harsh reality – even though he knows that the _memory_ of this moment is going to ruin them both in the morning – when she awakes, and he's not there in her bed with her.

"I almost forgot how good you are at this." He states, almost stunned, because he'd always thought that he'd never be able to forget this feeling, not even a little.

But the last weeks have been nothing short of traumatic – another voice muddling his head, mixing up his thoughts and memories of her – manipulating his ability (or, perhaps, his _inability_ ) to stay far away from her. To protect her. To protect the moonstone.

 _That_ is his destiny. And being in this castle, going on to be queen without him by her side, as they'd always planned… is hers. But tonight, Eugene doesn't give a shit about destinies. Right now, stripped clean, hearts bared to one another, none of that matters anymore.

"You taught me." She responds, releasing another breathy laugh. "I know how to do this because _you_ taught me."

It's true: he had. _He'd_ been the one to teach her that being loved could feel this way. He'd been the one to teach her that there is a _big_ difference between simple fucking – doing these things for the pure lust of it all – and making love. One of which, he'd done plenty of, and the other, he'd never done before her. Come to think of it, maybe _she'd_ been the one to teach _him_ about that part.

Regardless, he'd been the one to teach her what all of this meant: the desire, the unfulfilled lust which aches in your stomach, begging to be released. He loved that she always wanted to learn new things, and he loved being the one to teach her. He was the one to teach her, and she was always so eager to please him – always so eager to _prove_ herself, after eighteen years of being told that she wasn't capable of much of anything. Maybe that's why, her inexperience aside, she's still the best he's ever had.

Well, and because he's so damn in love with her that it hurts.

Gripping her hips gently, he lifts her from his lap, lying her on her back, pulling her by the legs to the edge of the bed. He stands over her, wrapping her legs around his waist, slowly pushing himself inside of her once more, drawing a sweet sound from her – a moan which makes her sound a little like she might just _cry_ in pleasure.

Her fingers are immediately tangled up in his hair, and they both know that the time for sweet and slow reconciliation is over – the tension has grown just enough to no longer be bearable, the longing of these last weeks, too much for him _not_ to pound her until she _knows_ – until she _knows_ that he's still so fucking in love with her that it's tearing him apart.

So he does.

And she feels _so good_ that he hangs his head, moaning into her shoulder – sucking, and biting, and needing to _feel_ her. Because if he doesn't, he'll forget. And if he forgets, he won't have a _chance_ at being okay again, won't have a chance at finding closure, or being able to go on without her. He needs this, he needs to watch her as he makes her feel this way, one last time.

Retreating from the softness of her neck, he stands again, wanting to watch her face as he brings a gentle finger between her legs, rubbing the bundle of nerves there as he continues to pound her into the bed – fucking away the guilt, and the sorrow, and the _anger_ of having to destroy every dream they'd had together.

He watches as her mouth falls open, watches as she pants his name, and watches as her thighs tense up around his hand. He yanks her upright, holding her body tightly to him – still pounding within her, still rubbing that spot between her legs. He whispers words to her that almost make her feel sick, because she's wanted to hear them for so many nights now.

"Cum for me, Blondie… please, please cum for me…"

 _Let me know that I'm still enough. Let me know that I'm still enough to make you feel this way. Please don't hate me so much that I can't do this_ _**one,** _ _perfect thing for you –_

And who would she be to deny him?

" _Eugene_ … Eu – oh, God…" She trails off, her mind no longer capable of forming a coherent thought – not when her muscles are tightening and relaxing around him like that, over and over again.

Her thighs squeeze hard around his hand, and she tightens on his dick, her release flowing around him like molten guilt and longing after so many weeks apart – sending him tumbling over the edge right with her, getting off on the sheer display of _her_ getting off.

He comes down hard, chest heaving, eyes so heavy that he couldn't keep them open if he wanted to. He pulls her close to him, wanting to feel her own chest heaving, her heart beating unbearably fast, legs still trembling harshly – knowing it's his fault that she's so spent, his fault that she feels this way.

' _You're going to regret that.'_

_No, I won't._

' _When you start thinking with your_ _ **brain**_ _again, and not with your dick, you will. This is going to make it harder to actually_ _ **stay away.**_ _'_

Still panting shallowly, Rapunzel cranes her neck to nuzzle her nose against his, kissing him softly, still coming down from the dizzying feeling of her own mind-numbing high.

"I love you."

' _Don't say it back! If you say it back, you're going to deceive her, deceive her into believing there's a chance that you're home for good.'_

 _But I do, I still do… she_ _**has** _ _to know that! I won't be able to live with myself if I don't tell her once more…_

"I love you, too, Blondie."

"I'm so glad you came home…" The exhausted princess trails off, green eyes heavy, blanketed in the warmth of a false comfort – comfort which she will surely hate him for ripping away all over again when morning comes. "I missed you… so much…"

So he doesn't say anything, just looks to the ceiling with tears pricking in his eyes, rubbing gentle circles into her back.

She'll fall asleep easily in his arms, the best sleep that she's gotten in weeks, finally not plagued by the nightmares of him, because he's finally right here. But he'll only lay there, plagued by guilt, and shame, and that little voice in his head which just won't leave him alone – not even in his most vulnerable, weakest moments. When dawn begins to break, when the _faintest_ bit of sunlight begins to pour through the windows – even though it _kills him_ to do so – he'll detangle her limbs from his, laying her gently against the pillows, pulling the blankets up around her, so that she won't get cold in his absence.

He'll just look at her for a little while, crouched beside her on the floor, tracing her features with a ghostly fingertip, trying very hard to burn each one into his memory. He'll finally lean down, pressing a kiss to her adorable nose, to each soft cheek, and finally, to her lips: those perfect lips which he has kissed a thousand times, and had once assumed that he would be able to kiss a thousand more – before he'd learned what he knows now, when ignorance could still be classified as bliss.

He knows that he can't stay any longer, sure that if her eyes flutter open, she'll find a way to convince him to stay in the wake of daylight – in the wake of the sunshine which so purely resembles her being, where he won't be strong enough to leave her alone again, which is what he _has_ to do to keep her safe.

Somehow, it's always easier to leave her in the darkness of the night, he's come to learn. Maybe because he can't fully see her face – can't see the betrayed look in her eyes, then.

When her eyes finally do flutter open, he won't be there beside her in bed, as she'd prayed that he would be. Instead, there will be a note – neatly folded and placed on the pillow beside her – the pillow that still smells a little like him. There on the paper, will be his scrawled, leisurely handwriting:

_Sunshine,_

_You looked so beautiful and peaceful that I didn't want to wake you, and I didn't want to say goodbye – that would only make this harder for you, and I don't want that. I hate myself for this, for everything. I'm sorry for being so selfish. It was selfish of me to come here, knowing that I couldn't stay. I know that I shouldn't have, but I had to see that gorgeous face of yours one last time. And the rest… well, I didn't intend for that, but I guess I'm just too selfish to deny you, which is why I can't come back again. If I do, you'll only be in danger, and I can't have that._

_Hurting you is the last thing that I ever wanted to do, but I can only hope that someday you will understand, that all of this… I did to protect you. I know it might not feel that way right now, Blondie, but this is for the best. You will always be my dream, and I'm just so sorry that I can't be yours anymore. I can only hope, someday, you'll find the strength to find a new one. And I'll be out there, loving you forever. I promise._

_And when I promise something… well, you know the rest._

— _Eugene_

And she'll take the note, and she'll take the old vest. She'll clutch to them, tears staining the handwriting, causing it to bleed, tears further molding the leather, causing it to soften. And when Cassandra comes to awaken the princess, she won't ask for an explanation for the unending river of tears flowing upon her dear friend's cheeks. She won't chide, she won't judge. She won't have to ask what happened last night, won't have to ask if he was here, because it's painfully obvious that he was – painfully obvious what had happened between them.

Because _no one_ cries like that, without losing something which cannot ever be replaced.


End file.
